


Prompt City Bitch

by ChasetheSun2



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Brief mentions of past trauma, Crossdressing, Cumdump, Ficlet Collection, Masturbation, Multi, Nsfw in a few chapters, Pegging, Sadstuck, Therapy, This really bounces around honestly, Tumblr Prompt, Violence, implied blackrom, put that in there too i guess, so much sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 11:57:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14496471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasetheSun2/pseuds/ChasetheSun2
Summary: A collection of prompts and associated ficlets from Tumblr.





	1. Tail

“Dave.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that…..?”

“Yup.”

Jade stood in utter shock as Dave puttered around the kitchen. Soft, fluffy white cat ears poked out from under hair of the same shade. Just above the hem of his pants, a long, equally fluffy tail curled lazily and dragged on the floor.

“How did this–?”

“Lab accident.” Dave said coolly, but by the way his hands were twitching Jade could tell that he was silently freaking out. “John got overexcited when he found GCat hiding under the equipment.”

Jade winced. “Does it hurt?”

“Nah.” Dave shook his head. “I got a weird craving for raw meat, but that’s the only side effect.”

Jade gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. She’s been there, that’s for certain. “Want to go get some sushi?” She asked.

She couldn’t help but laugh as Dave’s ears perked up and his tail twitched with barely hidden excitement.


	2. Feathers

The sound of giggling broke the early morning silence.

Anyone who knew anything about the occupants of the house knew that that giggling wasn’t the lighthearted sound it appeared to be, but an ominous warning. A breeze blew through the living room, swirling up the stairs and towards one of the corner bedrooms.

Dave’s bedroom.

John rematerialized just inside Dave’s door, not even having to open it. In his hands he clutched a can of barbasol and a single orange feather. He knew that Dave was an impossibly light sleeper, so instead of walking towards the bed, he floated as silent as could be. A wicked grin pulled at John’s lips as he crept up towards the sleeping figure. Slowly, carefully, he reached out to tug the blanket back, listening for the light snores that signalled his friend was sleeping–

A hand snatched his wrist. 

“Don’t you fucking dare, Egghead.” Came Dave’s sleepy voice from under the covers.

John faltered, then groaned. “God damn it.” He grumbled. “You dumb light sleepers, I can never get anything in on you or Dirk!”

“Strider genes, bro.” Dave turned over and stretched, tugging the blankets up over his head again. “Simple pranks won’t get us. We can’t be had.”

 _We’ll see about that._ John’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. In retaliation he ripped the covers off and sprayed the shaving cream all over Dave’s face. He would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the pterodactyl screech he earned himself.


	3. Sharpie

Kankri liked to tell himself he wasn’t the type of troll to get into this sort of situation. He liked to pretend that he was chaste.

But the stickiness of his thighs, the lukewarm material dripping from both his nook and ass, the moans spilling from his mouth as troll after troll entered the stall behind him and used him. 

The last one had been cold, a highblood, by the feeling of it. They’d left him just on the edge, squirming and whimpering with need. His nook clenched, sending a gush of thick material spilling to the floor as someone else entered. He heard the pop of a cap opening and smiled.

-

“Kankri?” Meulin tilted her head. Kankri nearly leapt out of his seat at her stealthy appearance.

“Good heavens, Meulin - I understand that hearing is not your priority anymore but please for heavens’ sakes, make some noise before scaring the daylights out of someo–”

“What are those marks on your hip?”

Kankri blanched. He glanced down to his side. Unbeknownst to him, his shirt had ridden up while he’d been sitting down. 

Several black tally marks stood out against his grey skin.


	4. Bitterness/Blackrom

It wasn’t that Cronus hated Kurloz. 

In fact, he’d often liked to say in pleasant company that he got along just fine with the clown - despite the fact that, of course, Kurloz was creepy as fuck and liked to stare. But that was just the way he was, right? Can’t blame a guy for his general aura.

No, he didn’t  _hate_  him.

But in the middle of the day, when his hand is wrapped choking-tight around his bulge, he can’t help but remember. He remembers that Kurloz stole the one person who hadn’t been afraid to take what Cronus dished out, and give it back twofold. He remembers that Kurloz was the last person to see him before the  _incident_ , and the first person to scoop him up later. He remembers how he was pushed away, how his best friend had run to Kurloz’s side.

He remembers the victorious glint in Kurloz’s eyes and the way he dug his claws into his own palms until they bled violet.

And maybe, just maybe…..he hates Kurloz enough for those moments.


	5. Pegging

“ _Fuck.”_

“Stop complaining, dear, you’re the one who asked for this.”

Cronus gasped and trembled under Porrim’s touch. For someone who talked so much game, he certainly was a bitch when it really got down to it. Bent over, his sculpted ass in the air and legs spread whorishly. Porrim usually didn’t like to use that word - she’d been on the receiving end too many times - but now it just fit.

A pulse of heat made its way down her spine and between her legs as she slid her strapon slowly into his ass. It was a little bigger than this little virgin could take comfortably, but who was she to turn him down? He’d  _said_  he could ride like a champ, after all. 

Her black-tinted lips pulled into an almost sadistic smile as she pushed another inch of lubed pseudo-cock into his ass and heard him whimper.


	6. Iridescence/heartache

Meulin still remembers the way the moonlight bounced off the cuffs, the glint of tears in Kankri’s eyes. The shine of spit and blood dripping from his chin as he screamed himself bloody and raw. 

She can’t hear anymore, but his last desperate cry rang clear as a bell in her mind. Her eyes are gong dim with age, but she still recalls the heretic red running rivulets, soaking into his black leggings and making them glitter in the light of the flames that consumed him from the wrists down.  
  
It catches her breath and her chest hurts when she remembers. She puts a hand over her heart and it feels warm.   
  
She is a Disciple with no Messiah, a priestess with no gods that will answer her pleas, and a devoted nun with no lover to whisper sweet heresy into her ears.

She still wishes it was his hand.


	7. Contentment

There’s something about the warmth of an Earth summer evening that dulls the senses and soothes aches. 

The crickets are just beginning to sing when Cronus comes out onto their shared balcony, two drinks in hand. Iced tea for Kankri and something a little stronger for himself, it seems. Kankri turns down the page of his book, sniffs the air and catches the whiff of alcohol. He wrinkles his nose.

“I hope you know that–”

“Yeah, yeah, chief. I promise, no more than two drinks, we don’t wanna repeat of New Year’s.” Cronus smiled and sat down next to him, handing the iced tea over. 

The glass is slick with condensation and cool against Kankri’s hand; the first sweet sip has him sighing contentedly. After a few more he’s curled up against Cronus, resting his head on the violet’s shoulder and purring softly at the cool arm wrapped around his own.

“Cozy?” Cronus asks. His voice is a low, husky purr. Kankri nods. “Good.”


	8. Blood orange/Pearls

“No, that ain’t what I said. Get it  _right.”  
_

Bright red-orange juice drips down fuchsia lips in a disgusting clash of color. The distinct  _crunch_  of sharp teeth through fruit skin echoed through the halls of the grand throneroom. 

The Empress - better known as Meenah to those in the room with her - lays across her plushy golden throne with both legs strewn over the arm. She points her trident at a trembling jeweller knelt before her and clutching a fine oak box. 

“Did I say I wanted diamonds?” She snapped, prodding his horns. He yelps and ducks his head down only to have the hooked end of the trident haul him back up painfully. “Did I?”  
  
“N-no,” He stammers, and apparently it’s not good enough. It’s never good enough for her. She flips her trident sideways and uses it to backhand him, sending him flying across the grand hall. His head hits the wall and she rolls her eyes, digging into her blood orange again. 

“I said I wanted pearls.” She said bluntly. Horrified, her council snapped to in a flurry of action. Behind the fruit, a small satisfied smile pulled at Meenah’s stained lips.

No one disappoints the Empress.


	9. Adorable

Karkat looked uncertainly at the getup Dave had forced him into. A red cloak, frilled skirt and white lace blouse, with a wicker basket in his hand. He scowled and flinched as Rose plucked yet another thick hair from his eyebrow.   
  
“Aaagh, fuck - could you manage to do that without slowly ripping the skin from my face?” He hissed, baring his teeth in what was clearly a half-hearted snarl. 

Rose tittered behind her hand, a mischievous look in her eyes. “You can’t go out with a unibrow and no makeup,” She said. “It just throws the whole look off.”

“It’s a costume party, not the red carpet.” Karkat grumbled, but continued letting her pluck away. 

“If it’s any consolation, you look adorable.” Rose said soothingly - then yanked out another hair. “Dave will love you. Not that he doesn’t already, of course.”

Karkat’s lip curled and his cheeks flushed, but he said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Feel free to request more prompts to add to this ficlet collection!](http://tiip2ydoodles.tumblr.com)


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